


Hellion

by stormae



Category: NCT (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Demons, Angst, F/M, Smut, he a demon, literally everyone ever, u not, who would've thought that'd cause problems
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-04-22
Updated: 2017-04-22
Packaged: 2018-10-22 13:25:46
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,918
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10697928
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/stormae/pseuds/stormae
Summary: He liked to bring the meaning of life down to a simple duology—eat or be eaten. The fox must consume rabbits to become stronger and faster and healthier, the rabbit must run from the fox to survive. This couplet could be seen wherever you looked. There was no doubt in Ten’s mind which of the two animals it was better to be.





	Hellion

The night was both unforthcoming and entirely alive as you wandered towards where your car was parked, waiting to transport you home to the comfort of your bed and to the sweet respite of sleep. The velvety suede of your midnight blue mini-dress did little to guard your flesh against the cold bite of the evening—or was it more appropriately early morning?—and your heels made satisfying click click click sounds against the pavement. Your hair was sweaty and matted in places and your dark eye makeup had disobediently smudged, but it didn’t matter so much now.

You’d abstained from drinking that night, the previous club outing acting as a successful deterrent until the alcohol fuelled regret wore off in a couple of weeks time, and were incredibly grateful. You’d danced and drank your lemonade and enjoyed your time with you brilliant (if not a little wild) friends, and now you were ready to go home and relinquish yourself to sleep.

The city around you was powered down. Only a select few shops and offices still had their lights on, most dormant for the night. However, the area you were in was a thoroughfare for bars and clubs, thus you were immersed in a sea of vibrantly intoxicated people. It was a good place to come when you felt lonely. The sheer quantity of people willing to strike up a conversation just to hear their own voices was astounding. You had sought solace in the steady cacophony of this particular breed of humanity several times before.

Your sober mind urged you to hurry towards your car. You curled your arms around yourself, assuming it was the cold your dress did such a poor job at warding off, but some part of you aware of a gaze on your form.

What you weren’t fully aware of was the figure that was weaving through the crowd a few paces behind you. The figure was not human. At a glance, people may have likened him to a fallen angel, with his smooth skin and warm, dark eyes and soft shock of black hair, but that could not have been farther from the reality. The evil spirit brushed the strands of hair from his eyes and maintained focus on your body, determined not to lose sight of you.

All creatures have purpose. To swim or to procreate or to find happiness or love or success. Humans privilege the pursuit of meaning, placing it at the forefront of their lives. They make it complicated, manifesting convoluted religions or gleaning supposed knowledge from the stars to explain what they could not. Ten found that all far too elaborate. He liked to bring the meaning of life down to a simple duology—eat or be eaten. The fox must consume rabbits to become stronger and faster and healthier, the rabbit must run from the fox to survive. This couplet could be seen wherever you looked. There was no doubt in Ten’s mind which of the two animals it was better to be.

Ten’s purpose, if he were to apply his own logic to the situation, was to eat the rabbit. It was his job to seek out humans that were attractive and eloquent and perhaps that little bit flawed enough, and turn them into a demon, a succubus, an incubus, a hellion, something like him. He was never sure which category he fell under, but he was uninterested in labels, anyway. When you’ve been around as long as he has, categorisation blurs into meaningless attempts of making sense of the world. He’d already explained his disillusionment with sense.

He’d been searching for his next—he hated saying victim—his next target? His next focus? And he’d spotted you, looking appropriately beautiful with just a hint of something amiss that he couldn’t look past you, his mind firmly made up. This district of Seoul never failed to present him with an appropriate option for his field of work, but rarely did he find someone so completely perfect. A wry smirk curved his lips as he kept pace a small distance behind you, his long fingers mindlessly twisting the black titanium band that encircled his finger. He paused for a split second beside a darkened shop to check his reflection. He looked normal, with dark irises contrasting nicely against the human whites of his eyes, no sight of the sleek, black horns that would normally protrude from his equally dark hair, no faint tinge of a dark maroon coating his fingers and fading out as the pigment traced it’s way up his arms. No, he was appropriately normal, which meant the ring on his finger was working. It was a nifty little item, suppressing the characteristics of himself that made him most hellish. It still left him with his abilities, though. The ability to manipulate emotions and override the will of a human, the ability to transform said human into another of himself, the ability to live forever.

As you neared your car, your phone leapt from your hand and clattered to the floor, as if it were possessed. You stared at it in shock for a moment, confused as to how your tight grip had allowed it to fall, when another hand picked it up for you. As the person straightened, your eyes widened and you felt any tension in your body seem to dissipate, your shoulders sagging and your partially raised hand falling limp by your side.

“This is yours?” The figure asked, extending the sleek device to you. You nodded, your head feeling somewhat cloudy. The young man smiled in a way that you could not understand, before he stepped closer to you.

“I’m Ten,” he introduced himself to you, his voice low and soft amid the bustle of the street, but he could tell you had no trouble hearing it. He could feel your full attention on him, paying close mind to every movement of his lips and every blink of his eyelids. It was familiar, the way the targets would hang from his every word, but he rarely felt the thrill of excitement that he was feeling with you.

“I’m Y/N,” you replied. Ten did not know what he had been expecting, but he hadn’t anticipated the sound of your voice to be quite so beguiling. The way your hand came up in a fluid motion to whisk a strand of hair behind your ear had him captivated for a moment, your movements commanding his attention in a way totally unfamiliar to him. Upon realising his own enraptured state, he recoiled internally. That was not the way it was supposed to be. You were the rabbit, not him.

He remembered his objective, and did his best to morph his features into a mask of reluctant dejection, “I was going to ask you if you wanted to grab a drink, but it seems like you’re heading home.”

Your hand whipped out to grab his forearm in a move he had anticipated through the way he was watching and controlling your whims and emotions, but the sudden contact of your fingers against his skin had the hairs at the back of his neck standing to attention. He fought the urge to grind his teeth, hating the incomprehensible effect you were having on him. You were just a human, for crying out loud. He was the devilish personification of lust. Having had enough of it, he decided if he could just get the pair of you into your car, he’d turn you and be done with it all. Then he’d spend the rest of eternity ensuring he never came across your pretty face every again.

“I was heading home,” you voice, velvety as your dress, drifted to his ears and yanked him from his own wandering mind, “but you could come back to mine for a drink or something?”

Perfect, “Sure,” he smiled with all of the pseudo-innocence he could muster, “that sounds lovely.”

You lead him maybe a minute down the street before stopping beside a dark car and sliding into the drivers seat. He rounded the bonnet and steeled his nerves—nerves? Why was he nervous?—before climbing into the passenger side.

Turn her and get out, turn her and get out. But the emotions that he was feeling from you, so filled with desire and barely restrained carnal passion, and the way your eyes looked out from under your mascara-clad eyelashes to shoot him an enchanting smile, he felt his feeble resolve beginning to crumble under the force of you.

To Hell with it, he thought, taking up your hand that was not on the wheel and bringing it to his lips that were already twitching with the impulse to cover every part of you. He could feel that you were even more willing than the people he usually dealt with, your attraction only intensifying his own.

By the time the pair of you stumbled through your doorway, any notion of turn her and get out had disappeared, lust overwhelming his all of his faculties as he took you in. You’re staring up at him, pink lips slightly parted, watching him to see what he would do first.

Your wide eyes made it impossible for him to quell his urges any longer, bridging the distance between your lips and his own by wrapping a hand around the back of you neck and pulling you to him. His other hand wrapped firmly around your torso to pull you closer to him, your own travelling up his torso to find home in the dark strands of his hair. The hand on the back of your neck forcefully angled your head upwards so that he had better access to the angles of your face, to your mouth, to your neck if he so desired.

And boy, did he desire. His teeth latched onto your bottom lip and tugged, coercing your mouth to fall open with a moan that had heat rushing to his head and his groin, and his tongue delved into your mouth, curving around your own and drawing breathy whines from your lips with each breath taken.

His lips detached themselves from yours, his forehead laying against your own as he closed his eyes and tried desperately to make sense of the situation. The attraction he felt towards you was overwhelming. Every firm tug of your fists in his hair and every whisper of a quivering touch of your fingers against the skin of his face, his neck, his collar bone had shivers coursing down his spine and the desperate urge to hold you as close and as tight as long as possible confusing his head. This was not the way his interactions with humans generally worked. They wanted him, they always wanted him because he made sure of it, but he never reciprocated their carnal passion.

But standing there with your body pressed against his and an unmistakable heat pooling at the base of his stomach, he forgot to care. He also forgot to continue to exercise his hellish control over you, no longer dictating your will. He noticed this with a start, but was further surprised to find you no less eager in front of him. Somewhere between the streets of Seoul and that moment right there, standing in the entry hall of your apartment, this had gone from an elaborate pretence to something real. For the first time in as longs he could remember, Ten felt the pulse of fear throb through him.

You banished that quickly, though, by yanking roughly at his hair and latching your lips onto the line of his jaw, lips sucking and teeth scraping until Ten couldn’t keep his eyes open anymore as he revelled in the pleasure of your lust made physical on his body. The bruise wouldn’t last, his accelerated recuperation ensured that, but the sentiment was there, and the both of you enjoyed the connotations of the love bite. Mine, yours, at least for the night.

When you unfastened yourself from him his eyes opened in search of yours, a question laced in the furrow of his brows. You simply mingled your fingers with his and towed him towards a doorway—your bedroom.

Ten disregarded the tidy bedroom, choosing instead to focus his attention of the way you fell backwards into the bed, curling your legs upwards to remove your scrappy sandals in a motion of movement that would normally have been mundane, but in the moment it had Ten thrumming with impatience and something animal. He batted your hands away and grabbed one ankle, tugging it towards himself and unbuckling the straps with ease. You watched as he dropped each show unceremoniously to the floor before descending onto the bed, one hand propping up the weight of his body as the other snuck between you and the mattress.

“Up,” his voice, soft and manipulated by lust, ordered, to which you complied happily. He watched in awe as you arched your back off the bed, giving him access to the zipper of your dress. He deftly removed the dark suede from your form, leaving you in only your underwear.

“No bra?” He asked, his eyes aflame at the sight of you sprawled against the bedsheets, face flushed and light keening noises escaping your lips, “How’s that fair?”

“You know what’s not fair?” You surprised him with the suggestive tone of your voice, “Your clothes.”

He lifted an eyebrow but obeyed your commanding eyes, sitting up to straddle your hips whilst lifting his dark t-shirt over his head to reveal a toned, smooth torso. Your fingers flew to his skin, running from the waistband of his jeans up his abdomen to cup his face, pulling him back to you. He made a light grunting sound as he rocked forwards, arms on either side of your head as he met the vigour of your lips with the desperate vitality of his own. Nothing but the sounds of heavy breathing and wet lips permeated the silence of your bedroom, creating an aura of intimacy that should’ve have concerned Ten, but he found it all the more comforting. His lips abandoned yours, travelling south, briefly traversing the rise and fall of each of your breasts before continuing down. His fingers were tight on your calves, which you used to circle his hips and pull him closer. Upon feeling where he was pressing against his jeans, your squirmed beneath him, before taking him by surprised and shoving him backwards until it was you straddling his hips.

You leant over him, your hair cascading around your face as you rolled your pelvis against his, forcing his eyes closed and pressuring a mixture of a sigh and moan from him lips.

You scooted backwards until you were hovered over his thighs, your long fingers unclasping his jeans and peeling them from his legs. You dragged his boxers down as well, shucking them to the floor and leaning over to connect your lips with Ten again. The feeling of your hand wrapping around his length had another moan ripping from his throat, the pleasure he was feeling something he had not known he was capable of feeling. He struggled to find something to anchor him to the moment, grabbing handfuls of your hair and aggressively moulding his mouth to yours as your hand began to glide up and down his cock, coaxing it to its full potential. You dragged your lips away from his and down the column of his neck, pausing as his throat bobbed in an attempt to swallow his impatience at your languid movements. However, when your thumb brushed over the bead of pre-cum tipping his cock, something snapped inside him. He sat up quickly and shoved you back down onto the bed with a sort of aggression that had your pupils blowing wide with lust. Looking up at him like that, with your hair splayed out around you and your chest heaving up and down and a thin sheen of sweat coating your skin, he detected something ethereal in you. A flicker of guilt pressed against the forefront of his mind, was it wrong for him, something so undeniably wicked, to indulge himself with you? Was it that ethereal quality in your gaze that made it so impossible for him to deny himself of you?

You hand retrieved a condom from your bedside table, and the feeling of the rubber rolling onto his member had the questions fleeing from his mind. He dropped forwards onto his elbows, his lips latching onto the junction of your shoulder and your neck as you wriggled from your underwear, leaving nothing to prevent the warm sensation of skin on skin.

One hand disappeared from beside your head, coming down to cup your thigh and give him better access for his next motion. As his teeth took hold of your flesh he canted his hips forwards, entering you in a swift motion that had a screaming moan barrelling from your lips. He smiled against you skin as he dragged his hips backwards painfully slowly before slamming home again.

“Another sound like that,” his voice was gravelly and thick with ardour as he spoke against your tender, red skin, his actions repeating over and over again. Lick, withdraw, bite, thrust. “Another. Scream.”

You were incapable of disobeying, he could tell but the way you shuddered at the sound of his commands and the sounds of pleasure fell from your lips in quick succession. Satisfaction and something else welled inside Ten as he continued to slam you repeatedly against the mattress. He lifted his face from your shoulder, eyebrows furrowed as he took in your expression, eyes screwed shut and lips parted to allow for the mewls that seemed to never stop coming.

You tightened around his cock, compelling a groan from Ten as you unravelled below him, your chest labouring to breath as you descended from your blissful state as Ten chased his own. His hips began to move in an inconstant rhythm as he draws closer to his end.

“You feel so fucking good,” he managed past gritted teeth.

You replied with an affirmative moan, the sound from your throat and the final slapping thrust of skin against skin had Ten coming undone, pulsing inside you for an extended moment until the room subsided into breathy silence.

He let himself collapse next to you, panting and glistening with sweat. As the fog of animalistic desire that had clouded his mind dispersed, the reality of the situation hit him with full force. He wasn’t meant to fuck humans, and something about that had felt like more than just fucking. It certainly wasn’t ‘making love’ either, but perhaps somewhere in the murky in-between.

He turned to look at your form, still recovering with your pretty eyes closed and your face flushed and dotted with perspiration. You were also still very much human. He hadn’t turned you like he should have an hour and a half ago, when he’d first succeeded in getting into your car. He should turn you now, and wash his hands of all of this. The prospect made his stomach twist in discomfort, but he knew his duty.

However, when your eyelids fluttered open and you turned to him, one hand coming up to move the dark strands of hair that were plastered to his forehead and flashing him a smile, he felt his resolve wobble.

“You can stay the night if you want,” you told him, a kind tone to your hoarse voice, “Or if you don’t want to, you’re welcome to a shower. Or maybe a cup of tea?”

He stared down at you in astonishment, finally confirming what had drawn him to irrevocably to you. What flaw could he have possibly seen in you before? Everything about you was warm and mellow and kind, and he knew he wouldn’t be able to bring himself to taint you so absolutely. He desperately wanted to tug you to his side and fall asleep, wake up the next morning next to you and tell you he wanted to make a habit of such a situation, but he was a demon and that wasn’t a feasible reality. He had to get away from you as soon as possible, before he had the opportunity to ruin what little good he’d managed to provide for you that evening.

As those thoughts were coursing through his head, he didn’t notice you twisting the dark metal ring on his finger inquisitively, yanking it from his appendage to get a closer look. As you did so, an additional darkness settled over the already shadowy room and a scream—this time of terror—ripped through the room.

Ten was momentarily confused as you scrambled off the bed, away from him with fear blatant in your eyes. His bewilderment was answered when he saw his ring standing out against the white sheet. He reached to pick it up, his fingers a gradient of red, the other hand going to feel the steel-like horns that curled away from his head. His eyes flickered up to look at your trembling form, a mistake he should have known not to make as you took a look at the pitch black pits that replaced his eyes. The violent horror that you returned his gaze with was enough to shatter any euphoria he had been feeling, replacing it with a bitterness directed at himself. He should have known this would happen. Hellions aren’t meant to have nice things.

He stands from the bed, slipping the ring back on his finger. He returns to the attractive, quasi-human version of himself, but it was a useless. You shuffled further from him as he rounded the bed.

“Calm down,” his voice was harsh to mask the agonising feeling of so close in his chest. So close to happiness. “I’m not going to touch you again.”

He tugged his clothes back on and forced his feet into his shoes, trying to ignore the way you were watching him like a scared animal.

Once dressed, he turned to you with a blank expression that took every ounce of his will to uphold, “It’d be best if you just forgot about all of this. Don’t worry, you won’t see me again.”

He left rapidly after those words, not bothering to hear if you dignified him with a reply. He didn’t want to hear your dulcet voice anymore, it would only intensify the resentment to the situation that was building in the pit of his chest where his heart should be.

As he emerged from your building and out onto the street, he found guilt once again bubbling to the surface. Never had be felt so atrocious for scaring a human, so disappointed in what he was, so reluctant to leave someone behind.

He had meant what he had said to you, you should forget about him as soon as possible. Hopefully you’d write it off to a weird dream, or a hallucination. Unlikely, but with how badly he’d fucked everything up, Ten liked to think he was at least entitled to hope. He really hoped you’d forget about him, no matter how painful the prospect was to him. What was even more excruciating, though, was the foreboding feeling that expanded from the same place where the bitterness radiated. He could tell he wouldn’t be able to wipe you from his memory for a long time to come.


End file.
